The Jerk and Me
by WhiteDusk8888
Summary: Terra Brankford doesn't hate anyone. That is, she doesn't hate anyone except Paul Lahote. She hates his bad attitude, his lack of people skills and his constant cursing, so why is she so drawn to him? -set outside of Unexpected Imprint -imprint story
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm so glad that you've decided to give my story a shot. This is an imprint story and if you like that sort of thing go check out my other story, Unexpected Imprint. This story is not set in the world of Unexpected Imprint because I wanted to explore a different side of Paul, the side of Paul that we see when reading Twilight. Thanks so much for reading!**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all of the characters!**

Chapter 1  
(Terra's POV)  
Paul Lahote. Those two words -that one name- could make a hardened criminal cringe away in fear or make the most experienced teacher back down from a confrontation. For me, that one name only invoked one feeling, but it was neither fear nor intimidation. No. I only felt hatred.  
He acted like he owned the place, like he had some sort of entitlement that no one else had. If someone tried to do something about it ... well, let's just say that things didn't end well. It made me furious to a degree that I didn't even know existed. I didn't feel like this towards any other person, didn't know that I could feel like this at all. The closest I had gotten to feeling like this was when Cathy Murphy stuck gum in my hair in the fourth grade. That annoyance wasn't even one thousandth the anger I felt towards this rude, malicious, aggravating-  
"So I was like ... Terra, are you even listening to me?" My friend asked, her voice melting from a tone of concern to one of annoyance in an instant.  
"No ... Yeah, yeah. Of course I am," I stated, hoping that the smile I slapped on my face appeared convincing. Judging by the look on my friend's face, she wasn't falling for it.  
"What has been with you lately?" She asked impatiently, stopping in the middle of the school hallway as she did so. I received miffed glares from people as they had to maneuver their way around her, rolling their eyes along the way.  
"Ugh, it's Paul Lahote. He's just ... And he's ... You know what I mean?"  
"Of course I do," she said sarcastically, proving that my inept form of vocabulary made my statement as clear as dirt.  
"Well, he's been such an ass lately. I mean, he was like that most of the time anyway, but now he's way worse. Ever since he came back to school last week he's been snapping at more and more people. It's frustrating 'cause you know how I feel about conflict. It's been such a pain to avoid him, though because he's in a few of my classes. At least before he bulked up, he sat in the back of the class and goofed off, but now his presence is like taking up the whole room. You know?" I asked, hoping she'd get it.  
"Terra, I love you to death, but I have no idea what you mean. He's one guy. The school isn't full of Paul Lahotes. If you don't like him, then ignore his 'presence,'" she said, putting the word 'presence' into air quotes.  
"Phoebe, I love you to death, but it's not that easy," I spoke the first part loud enough for her to hear, but by the end I was mumbling. She wouldn't understand. It was like his entire being took up everything in the room. I was a very studious person, but trying to focus on schoolwork with him there was nearly impossible. I kept fighting the urge to turn and look for no reason at all.  
Abruptly, the bell rang, breaking me out of my thoughts.  
"Oh shi-oot. 'Bye Phebes!" I shouted, bolting for the classroom. That was only the first bell. I had a minute to get to class, but it was two hallways over...  
I ran as fast as my legs could take me while bearing the weight of my twenty pound bookbag.  
My breath came in short gasps, making me think about all of my missed opportunities to visit the gym. I really should have taken those exercise classes.  
I reached the door right as the bell rang, nearly falling through the door in my rush not to be tardy.  
"Ms. Brankford, so nice of you to join us," my teacher, Dr. Lopez, said snarkily.  
"Dr. Lopez, so nice of you to assign me so much work that if it was food, I could feed a third world country for the year," I muttered under my breath, walking to my seat.  
I heard a loud guffaw near the back of the classroom and glanced back to see Lahote leaning back in his chair, a smirk on his face.  
"Ehemm," Dr. Lopez cleared his throat, before gesturing for me to take my seat impatiently.  
"You might want to get that cough checked out, sir," I heard a voice call out before chuckles emerged all around.  
The glare that was sent to the instigator showed that our teacher was in no mood to be trifled with.  
"Mr. Lahote, if you are so interested in being the class clown, I'm sure you would have no problem with moving to the front of the class. After all, this is where more people can see you. Your stage awaits," he said angrily, kicking one of the nerds who sat next to me out of their chair and waiting for Paul to sit down.  
I nearly groaned. Out of all the places to be moved, it had to be next to me.  
I refused to look anywhere but at the front of the class for the entire period. I stared at the white board and at the various posters above it, making sure that my eyes didn't drift toward the ass sitting next to me. The problem was, that I really wanted to look. I had no idea why, but I did.  
After far too long, the bell rang. I couldn't tell you what we had learned, but I had accomplished my goal. Terra-1. Lahote-0.  
I packed my belongings quickly and efficiently into my bag and ran out of the door, breathing a sigh of relief.  
I slowly walked through the crowd of students, hoping that I wouldn't accidentally bump into anyone in the process.  
Luckily, I made it to my locker without incident. I pulled my backpack in front of me so I could grab my notebook. That was the only item that I needed for next period because it had my writing assignment in it and we would be peer editing for the day.  
My eyes slowly widened, as my movements increased in speed. I flipped my bookbag over and dumped the neatly organized contents onto the ground, looking in vain for my notebook.  
By this time, my breathing had become erratic.  
_Slow down, Terra,_ I thought to myself. Panicking wasn't going to help anything. I calmed my breathing and thought back to the last time I had seen it.  
I had been using it to take notes in Dr. Lopez's class, that I was sure of. Although half of my notes were probably written in gibberish, I had still tried to keep my mind off of Lahote by writing whatever I could from the lesson. I had to have left it there.  
I rapidly picked up my belongings and haphazardly threw them into my bag. There would be time to re-organize it later. I had a very short window of time to grab my notebook and get to my next class, so I ran - or as fast as I could run through my peers - to my last class.  
As I rounded the corner, I ran into something. It was hard and very, very warm.  
I attempted to push around the warm mass in front of me, but whoever it was wasn't getting the hint, so I figured I would spell it out for them.  
"Move," I nearly growled in aggravation.  
"Yeah right. Like I'm going to listen to you," a smug voice resounded. I closed my eyes in frustration. I knew that voice and I definitely knew the owner.  
"Lahote," I said in a clipped voice.  
"Brankford," he said in the same tone.  
"Get. Out. Of. My. Way," I spat, trying to forcibly move him. It worked about as well as trying to melt an entire iceberg with a hairdryer.  
"No, I don't think so," he said, his voice still conceited.  
"Fine, let me rephrase. Move. The. HELL. Out. Of. My. Way."  
"Hmmm, well, when you put it that way ... Nope, I still don't think that's happening anytime soon."  
"Do you think at all?" I grumbled. I thought I heard a low growl come from somewhere, but I passed it off as the work of my imagination.  
"Actually, yeah. I _think_ that you're looking for this," he said, pulling my notebook out of the bag he had slung over his shoulder.  
"Our teacher graciously asked if someone would return this to you and when no one volunteered he threw it at me. I was planning on throwing it in the trash, but I think I'll just keep it," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice and could tell that he was serious. I was desperate.  
"I need that back, Lahote!" I shouted, reaching for it, but my 5'1 height was not match for his. He held it above his head and watched me squirm in anger.  
"What the hell is your problem?!" I shouted, only realizing that I had yelled a curse word in the school without scanning the hallway for teachers after I saw a head peak out from an adjacent classroom.  
"Language," the teacher chastised before slamming the door, her tone saying that if she heard anything like that again, then there would be trouble.  
"Just give me my stuff back," I whisper-yelled at him, trying to reach my stolen item again.  
"I don't give a shit whose stuff this was. It's mine now, bitch." His tone took on a menacing quality, which had me nearly backing away. Who was he to talk to anyone like that? It just wasn't right.  
"Listen to me, Lahote and listen good. I don't care who you think you are because it's obvious that you think you're some sort of god, but you are one of the worst people I know. You try to intimidate people because of your size and use that condescending voice on everyone in sight. You are no better than anyone in this school and if you think you are then you have another thing coming. When you leave this school, do you think you're going to get anywhere? No. You'll try to tell people that you deserve a job and they won't give it to you because you won't deserve it. What you do deserve, though, is whatever you've gotten yourself messed up in. Drop dead!" I shouted, not caring who heard. I had wanted to say that for years. I knew it was mean, but I didn't regret it, not one bit. He had been one hundred times meaner to my friends in this school and he deserved what I had said because it was all true.  
I turned my back on him and stomped away, hoping that my teacher wouldn't be too mad at me for not having my work. I didn't make it far.  
After a few steps, my arm was gripped roughly and I was yanked back. It was slightly painful, but I was too mad to care.  
"No one talks to me like that. No one," he nearly roared in anger, his frame shaking all the while.  
"Well, I just did. And get your hand off of me before I scream," I ground out, my teeth nearly chattering. I was mad, but I was slightly scared. He was big and could probably break me in half without a thought.  
He slowly removed his hand from my arm, leaving my wrist extremely red. It looked to be bruising rapidly. That was just dandy.  
"You did not just do that. I ... I knew you were horrible, but ..." I felt tears prick my eyes. I could understand having a screaming match, but you never needed to get physical, especially when your conflict was with a girl.  
I was furious that he would do such a thing. I was so angry that I did something I never thought I would do. I pulled my hand back and slapped him as hard as I could.  
I nearly swore at the pain I felt, but when I looked into his eyes I felt triumphant. The angry look I was sure he had been giving me previously was now completely astonished. His eyes portrayed shock, regret, and some other nameless emotion. It looked like he was a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.  
His jaw went slightly slack. Part of me wondered if I had broken it, the other part hoped I had.  
"Terra, I'm-" I put my hand up to halt his words and surprisingly enough, he shut up.  
"I don't want to hear it. I just want my stuff back," I said as I heard the tardy bell ring.  
Paul slowly grabbed the notebook out of his bag and I snatched it from him before he could pull it away.  
"I'm really sorry," he whispered, his clenched fists shaking and his eyes brimming with sincerity. I actually believed him, but there was no excuse for his behavior.  
"I don't care," I said coldly, turning my back on him again. This time he didn't stop me.

**Please review and tell me what you think about this chapter and the title of the story. I'm open to all constructive feedback and any suggestions!**


	2. Chapter 2 (Terra's POV)

**Okay, well... Let me start out with a huge apology. I kind of lost inspiration for this story, but I'm really working on figuring out how I want this story to go. I was really happy with this chapter and hope you like it too. Once again, I'M SOOOOO SORRY for the long wait!**

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**Thanks to the people that reviewed...**  
**Love-Fandom03 **  
**skye**  
**angel of flameing death**  
**Gallagher GirlsDivergentMe**  
**Wolves101**

Chapter 2  
(Terra's POV)  
"The nerve of some people," I muttered under my breath as I stalked to my next class, the one I was undoubtedly late for.  
"I mean, seriously. Grabbing my fricken' wrist, stealing my stuff. Holding it hostage. He probably would've made me pay ransom if I hadn't threatened to scream," I continued, rounding the corner and entering the first door on the left.  
"What if he'd broken it," I continued, ignoring the teacher who looked at me in disdain, gesturing to my seat as if I wasn't already heading in that direction.  
"I probably would've sued him," I mused aloud, only halting my speech after getting shushed by the teacher, whose glare could've melted steel. I did manage to role my eyes without her noticing, though.  
The class was dull, much like the other classes I had to sit through. Even though I tried to be a good student, school never really appealed to me. I did what was required and hated to be late, but other than that, I hoped for the best. My B average was nothing to be ashamed of, so what was the point in expending more effort than was due?  
Before I knew it, the bell rang signaling for lunch to begin. I gathered all of my things and put them in my bag, only remembering that it was in disarray after I tried to put my notebook in its normal spot. I sighed in frustration, deciding that I would fix it after I got into the cafeteria.  
I meticulously closed the zipper of my bag, pulled my notebook close to my chest and slung the bag over my shoulder.  
I walked into the chaos that was the school hallway with a slight sense of dread. Making it through the throng of people was never easy. It was like taking a toothpick to a swordfight. When you only had one person against an entire mass of students, there was no use.  
I pushed my way past several students, most of which either ignored me or looked at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial. Yep, school life sucked.  
I entered the cafeteria, searching for Phoebe as I did so. She wasn't in her normal spot by the window, so I had no idea where she could be other than detention. She was great, but getting into trouble was one of her various unhelpful talents. She was great at mouthing off to teachers, being late for class and hooking up with every other guy in the school. If I didn't hate Paul so much, I would probably suggest that they get together on account of how similar they were.  
I headed in the direction of our normal spot, eyeing someone who was headed in that direction. Like hell they would take my spot. I had been the 'owner' of that spot for over a year. It was the perfect place to sit, the place where you could look out at the beach, which was situated a few miles away. That was probably why everyone always gave me the evil eye when I sat there.  
I started jogging in that general direction, only to trip over someone's bag, which had been carelessly dropped between two sets of tables. I spouted some colorful words as my notebook left my grasp, sliding a few feet in front of me.  
Before I tried to untangle myself from the bag, no doubt in an ungraceful fashion, a hand was proffered, which I gladly took.  
"Thanks," I mumbled, looking at the horrid bookbag with a mix between anger and embarrassment.  
"Here," the person muttered, practically shoving my notebook into my hand before walking away.  
"Hold up!" I shouted, after getting over my initial shock. I sprinted over to the person who had helped me. It took a while to get to the person because of the crowd of people, as well as the long strides that the person was taking in the opposite direction. Luckily I reached the obviously-male figure before he rounded the corner. I reached up and was barely able to grab the person's shoulder.  
"What?" He asked in an aggravated tone. That only served to call upon my 'what the hell' personality.  
"If you'd be so kind as to give a rat's ass about the gratitude I was about to show you, then you would turn around," I nearly ground out. Disrespect directed at me was annoying.  
"What?" The person asked, less moody, as they pulled a set of ear buds, that I had failed to notice, out of their ears.  
"Ummmm..." I was at a loss for words. I felt really bad for turning on my 'bitch' mode. It was just that I had taken so much crap from everyone today that I didn't need to deal with a nice person who couldn't even stick around for a thanks. I shook my head to gain some clarity before continuing.  
"Just wanted to say thanks..." I paused, hoping he could tell me his name.  
"Jared?" He said as a question, obviously unsure of what I wanted from him. A stone cold look was abruptly covering any possible features on my face that could have portrayed gratitude.  
"Lahote's friend?" I said with an icy tone.  
"Yeah. I mean, we haven't been friends for long or anything, but... Well, we are now. I mean, when he's not being an ass. I need to go..." He said, slightly nervous, before trying to take off.  
"Wait!" I shouted, grabbing his arm. It seemed entirely too warm.  
"Are you running a fever?"  
"What?" He asked in surprise.  
"It's just that you're really hot."  
"So glad you noticed," he said, winking at me before a shudder went through his body.  
"I really need to go," he said, still trying to walk away.  
"Hey!" I yelled again as he tried to gently untangle my hand from around his arm.  
"I HAVE to go. Right now. Seriously. You're gonna' get me in trouble. And while I love trouble, the last kind of trouble I want is from Paul about his girl," he said, before his eyes widened. At this point he didn't seem like he cared too much about being gentle with my hand. He just wanted it off of his arm so he could flee.  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, but by this time, my hand had been completely removed from Jared's arm and he had run, in what I perceived a speed far too fast for a normal person, around the corner and out of sight.

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